


He's A Little Different And We Love Him

by Enclave



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Autism, Autistic Keith (Voltron), Gender-Neutral Pronouns for Pidge | Katie Holt, Headaches & Migraines, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, Keith (Voltron) Whump, M/M, Multi, Sensory Overload
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-19
Updated: 2018-06-19
Packaged: 2019-05-25 13:32:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,380
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14978204
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Enclave/pseuds/Enclave
Summary: Keith overdoes it while training, and both of his boyfriends take care of him.





	He's A Little Different And We Love Him

**Author's Note:**

> Shklance with autistic!Keith because I'm autistic and project it onto everyone. This is just total self-indulgent whump and I'm not sorry at all. Set vaguely before Keith leaves Voltron for the Blade of Marmora.
> 
> content info: there's injury but nothing severe/graphic/dangerous. There's sex in this one but it's not particularly explicit. Brief mention of nausea/vomiting (offscreen), also not graphic. Aaand some talk about unhealthy coping mechanisms, but no direct self-harm. That should be everything but let me know if I missed something!

"Hey, hang on! Stop simulation!" Lance barks. Immediately, both combat robots back off, and Keith whips around to look at him.

"Why did you stop it?"

"Aren't you hurt? Am I dreaming, or did that guy just  _ nail _ you in the left shin?"

"First off, it's not a guy. It's a robot. Secondly, I'm fine. Turn them back on."

"Can I look at it first?"

"Come on, Lance, it doesn't hurt. Turn them back on!"

Lance rolls his eyes. "Okay, whatever, Mr. Strong And Silent Type. Start simulation." Keith and Lance slide back into their fighting postures, back to back, as the robots jerk back into motion.

* * *

When they head back to the showers together, Lance is  _ pretty _ sure Keith is favoring his left leg. But he doesn't want to provoke Keith if Keith doesn't want to talk about it, so he doesn't say anything.

Keith seems to have forgotten about it himself, in fact. Neither of them bother with changing in the changing rooms anymore, instead simply stripping in front of each other and showering together (hey, it's convenient to have someone to wash your back), and when Keith peels his black leggings off to reveal an already-purpling bruise smeared across one shin, he doesn't even hide it from Lance. The rest of his leg looks fine -- Lance could have sworn he turned his ankle trying to dodge that one, but it doesn't look swollen, at least not yet. So maybe Keith is fine.

Lance skips ahead of Keith into the shower so he can spray himself down in cold water before Keith comes into the stall and, sliding past Lance and brushing up against him, turns it up to luke-warm, a compromise they can both agree on. They get pretty distracted soaping each other up, and Keith is just so fucking beautiful when his hair is slicked back and Lance can actually see his face and pretty eyes that Lance finds himself running his hands up and down Keith's sides, then kissing him as water streams over both their faces, their breaths and Lance's quiet moans echoing in the shower stall, and then he's sinking down, settling onto his knees, pushing Keith back against the wall, watching him the whole time to make sure he wants this. 

But Keith's already curling and uncurling his hands into fists, a sure tell that he's jonesing for it, when Lance gets down there, and he guides Lance's mouth into place with a gentle hand cupped around his jaw and chin, urging him along silently. He takes Keith into his mouth with a smirk, reveling in how Keith finally loses control, his tiny, bitten-off grunts becoming long,  _ loud _ moans that anyone walking past not even just the changing room but the training hall itself will certainly hear. Luckily, Pidge and Hunk have been occupied tinkering with the teludav all day, trying to replace some of the scaultrite lenses with a less delicate material. They still don't know about Lance, Keith, and Shiro's relationship. Lance is pretty sure everyone has guessed Keith and Shiro have something outside the platonic going on, but he's also quite sure nobody knows he's banging both Keith and Shiro as well, and they've all agreed to keep it that way until they've got the three-way-polyamory thing a little more figured out. Their personal relationships are none of anyone else's business, anyway.

Keith finishes a few minutes later, going so boneless against the wall that Lance protectively presses up against him to make sure he doesn't simply collapse, and once he has his breath back he puts his hands all over Lance, touching him  _ everywhere _ , and soon Lance is coming too with a high-pitched cry, and they pretty much have to shower all over again before they can leave.

* * *

"Want to head back to my room and play a round of Mario Kart?" Lance suggests after they're toweled off and changed into fresh clothes. Freshly-showered Keith is Lance's favorite thing after in-the-shower Keith, and maybe he's hoping some friendly Mario Kart rivalry will become a competitive round two, his favorite kind of sex.

Keith shakes his head. "Think I'm going to spend some time with Red."

Lance is disappointed -- he personally thinks his boyfriend is a workaholic and spends too much time hyperfocusing on his training. But he also respects his choices and his need to get away from the group and have time alone. The castle is only so big, and while Lance is an extrovert who loves being constantly and unavoidably surrounded by friends, he knows Keith doesn't exactly feel the same way. "Okay, well, have fun!" He sees his boyfriend off with a quick kiss as Keith heads off towards the hangars. It's only once Keith is out of earshot that Lance remembers he wanted to ask him again if he had twisted his ankle, but it's too late now. Keith isn't stupid, anyway. He would let Lance know if something was  _ really _ wrong.

* * *

Shiro taps on Keith's door. "Hey, babe?"

There's no answer from inside. The silence is worrying. Keith wasn't at their team meeting this afternoon, when the paladins were supposed to get together to debrief on their progress in training for their upcoming mission. The paladins will be extracting a crucial member of the Blade of Marmora from a Galra-occupied planet, and everybody is working hard getting in shape and mentally preparing for what promises to be a complicated, multi-day operation.

Keith has been pulling his weight. No, he's been more than pulling his weight. Keith does everything like he's being chased by a pack of rabid wolves that will descend on him and tear him to pieces unless he succeeds. Shiro has watched him spar against the robots in the training room for over six hours at a stretch once, and he has no idea how long he would have kept going if Shiro hadn't gone in and forced him to stop.

Because that's just how Keith operates. He's passionate, full of wild energy and seething emotion, but he often pushes himself too hard and burns out. Which is probably what's happening now.

"Keith, if you don't answer me I'm coming in."

He gives Keith another minute or two. Their dorms in the castle, despite the castle's size and opulence, aren't large. They have plenty of built-in storage, and racks for their armor and bayards, along with cozy beds built in to the wall and workstations with both electronics and desk space, but that's about it. Unless something's wrong, Keith should have answered him by now -- he's given him plenty of time.

Luckily, the door is unlocked. Shiro enters slowly, but he already has a good idea of where Keith is. As he expected, the lights are off, but there's a dim glow emanating from under Keith's desk.

Shiro circles around to the other side of the bed, where the desk is, and crouches down so he can see underneath. Keith is there, lying on his back side-on to Shiro. His knees are pulled in towards his chest, his feet gently resting against one leg of the desk, and his arms are crossed over his chest. He's wearing a hoodie and sweatpants, which suggests he was able to at least change out of his training clothes before this -- whatever this is -- happened. His eyes are closed, and the expression on his face is slightly pained. Between him and Shiro, Keith has laid his phone face-up with the homepage showing. He's explained to Shiro before that he uses the glow of the screen as a light when he's too overwhelmed for the room lights even on their dimmest setting, but too scared to be in the dark. 

"Hey, Keith, do you want to tell me what's going on?" Shiro asks softly.

"Uh-uh," Keith murmurs, without moving.

Well, the easy way was worth a shot, Shiro supposes. "Is it your head?" Sometimes when Keith's body really wants to knock him out for a few extra hours, he gets migraines.

Keith nods delicately, like he's afraid of disturbing something priceless balanced on his face. 

"I'm going to go get you some water and meds. I'll be back in a minute, okay?" Keith nods again.

Shiro knows, rationally, that Keith will be fine; they both know the drill with these headaches by now, and sometimes Keith even insists on sleeping them off alone, though Shiro's been moderately successful at convincing him it's okay for him to ask for company when they happen. Still, he hurries down to the kitchen, grabbing the closest Altean equivalent to a generic painkiller and a pouch of water, and hustles back to Keith's room. 

On the way back he runs into Lance. "Hey, where are  _ you _ hurrying off to?" he asks Shiro.

"Keith's room. He's not feeling well."

"Aw, man, I  _ knew _ he got hurt when we were sparring with the combat robots, but he insisted everything was fine."

"Huh, I'll have to ask him about that, too. He actually said he had a migraine."

"Tell him I'm around if he needs me," Lance says.

"Will do."

When Shiro finally gets back to Keith's room, Keith is right where he left him, and doesn't look like he's improved or deteriorated dramatically. Shiro pushes the pouch of water and two tablets under the table, careful not to get too close. Keith in this state is skittish, and he doesn't like to feel cornered. It's best if Shiro leaves him a clear path to the door and doesn't box him in. He'll come out when he's ready for affection. "I left pills right by you," Shiro says. "You should take them when you're ready."

Shiro waits quietly for him to respond. It's weird, but he actually kind of likes doing this for Keith, because Keith almost never slows down enough for them to have a private moment like this together otherwise. Shiro can't convince Keith that these headaches aren't because he's a bad person or not hard-working enough or whatever the hell bullshit Keith has convinced himself is true, and that Keith deserves rest, but Keith's body can  _ force _ him to rest. Maybe it's a little sad, but Shiro thinks that's a blessing. Keith is way too hard-headed to be stopped unless he's stopped by himself.

Beyond that, he derives a certain satisfaction in being the only person Keith will always tolerate when he gets like this. Once or twice he's allowed Lance to come into his room and drop off medication or supplies, and on one notable occasion, Shiro walked in on them curled around each other, asleep on Keith's bed, the morning after one of Keith's migraines. (He was able to leave without waking Keith, but Lance's eyes snapped open as he was retreating. Lance had silently, without disturbing Keith at all, turned towards Lance and made the excruciatingly clear gesture of a finger drawn across his throat:  _ If you disturb him or tell anyone about this, I'll murder you. _ So Shiro had left quietly and never told a soul. And he still gets his Altean tablet out sometimes to stare at the picture he snagged of the two of them before Lance woke up. It's just too good not to keep.)

So he doesn't mind when this process takes a while. He hopes that someday Keith will resolve his complicated self-image enough that he can take a few hours off  _ before _ his exhaustion reaches this point, but until that happens, he's happy to help.

However, Keith still hasn't reacted at all to the medication beside him. "Hey, Keith? Think you're gonna take the pills tonight, or do you want to wait it out?"

A long pause follows, but finally Keith gets out, his gravelly voice softened by weakness, "Gonna take them. Working on it."

"Do you feel sick, honey? Need me to get you anything else?"

"Threw up earlier. Don't need anything."

Keith's responses are encouraging. Usually once he's managed to start talking, it's easier for him to continue; it's the starting that's difficult. The next step is moving, but that can wait a little longer. "Lance said you hurt yourself in training."

"No," Keith says, but Shiro knows that's just a reflex for him. He automatically denies weakness. Shiro knows not to take his first response seriously; the second is more indicative of the truth: "I guess. It's my ankle. But it doesn't hurt."

Yet another odd thing about Keith: He doesn't seem to feel pain the same way as everyone else on the team. Some pains, like the sting of a wasp, provoke the same reactions in him as anyone else: he cries out when it happens and guards it afterwards. But some don't. Once he was shot with a metal round in the first ten minutes of a mission to destroy a Galra factory. He claimed it was just a graze and nobody realized anything was wrong until he collapsed from blood loss back on the castle. He had later claimed not to have felt the shot or realized the bullet was still inside him; he had assumed the symptoms of blood loss were simple exhaustion from a long mission.

That had been a fun afternoon. Shiro had held Keith's hand and stroked his hair as Coran had pried out the bullet, complaining loudly the whole time about primitive civilizations that still used physical ammunition rather than ionic-proton-energy-whatever like the Alteans and Lance hovered anxiously behind Shiro. Keith had been almost silent through most of the extraction, as was his wont, but as the bullet pulled loose he had flinched and yelped, his face going pale, and looked up at Shiro with the most pleading expression he had ever seen. "You're okay, Keith! It's over. Shh, you did it. It's all done now. Coran's just going to cover the spot..."

The truth was, Shiro still wasn't sure if Keith actually felt pain differently, or if he was just really good at hiding it. The latter idea scared the crap out of him. He had been trying to get Keith to trust him enough to be vulnerable around him for years, but Keith was slow to trust, and he knew it might be years longer before Keith would fully open up to him. Still, Shiro would wait as long as Keith needed for him to be ready for that.

Shiro shakes himself out of his reverie. "Okay. The pills will help with that a little, when you're ready to take them."

"I can't come out of here yet," Keith says, suddenly blunt. "I want to, but..."

"It's alright. I understand." Keith is like an injured animal; coming out of his safe cave contradicts all of his screaming instincts, no matter that there are people who will take care of him on the outside. "Focus on taking the medication for now."

Another long pause, then Keith finally moves, snaking one arm out to put the pills in his mouth. In his own peculiar Keith fashion, he dry-swallows them, then chases them with water. Then, with what looks like a monumental effort, he eases himself over to lie on his side, curled up on the ground, rather than shoved into the back wall. He's probably getting ready to come out. The movement makes him wince, though.

"Your head's really bothering you, huh?" Shiro says just to make conversation.

"It's right behind my eye..." Keith says. "It's worse when I move."

"Just give the meds some time to kick in."

"Nnh." 

There's a tap on the door. Keith opens one of his eyes -- the migraine is on the other side -- and nods to Shiro, so he goes over and opens the door, momentarily blinded by the bright light in the hallway. "Hey, Lance." He quickly cups his jaw and kisses him on the cheek. He's taking care of Keith right now, but that's no reason to leave Lance feeling neglected. "Everything okay?"

"I didn't hear anything so I came to make sure everything was okay. He doing any better?" Lance asks, uncharacteristically quiet and subdued. As tone-deaf as Lance can sometimes be, when it comes to Keith he watches himself carefully and rarely makes missteps. Shiro finds it endearing to watch.

Shiro shrugs. "Not yet, but he'll be okay."

"Alright, well, I brought food. And tea." He pushes a cup that smells like lemon into Shiro's hands, as well as a small bowl of a dish that's sort of like rice that Hunk invented from some of the food they got at the space mall. "Can I come in?"

"We're not really..."

"I know, just sitting quietly. I got it. I just want to be with you guys."

"It's fine." Keith's gravelly voice floats out to them from inside the room. "He can come."

Shiro lets Lance through and shuts the door behind him before returning to Keith. He's out from under his desk, finally, sitting propped up against the foot of his bed. He has also stripped off the sweatshirt he was wearing, so he's down to a tight black t-shirt and his sweatpants. He gives Lance an inscrutable look. "Hi, Lance. Sorry it's not..." He pauses, wincing, and one of his hands goes to cover his left eye. "Not too interesting in here."

"I think I can handle not having fun for an hour out of my extremely important and fun-filled schedule."

"Try not to strain yourself," Keith deadpans.

Lance just snorts. A beat. "Want me to come over there?"

"And do what?"

"Keep you company, idiot."

Keith thinks it over. "Sure."

Lance walks over beside him, even making his footsteps quiet. It's special to get to see Lance caring for Keith like this, dropping (most of) his brash, class-clown persona when it's needed. In the complicated relationship between the three boys, Shiro's relationship with Lance is the least intimate. They both love and support each other, but Shiro, who's honest to a fault and can't mask his emotions even if he tries, finds Lance confusing. It's obvious enough that he uses his happy persona to hide and protect himself, but Shiro doesn't really know what he's hiding. He's had more time to learn Keith's expressions and to read between the lines when he suppresses his emotions.

Lance settles at the foot of the bed beside Keith, and Keith leans his head on Lance's shoulder. Lance starts stroking Keith's hair, and Keith hums and presses into his side, the furrows of tension on his forehead smoothing out marginally. "You know," Lance starts, "You could have told me something was wrong when we were sparring together. We could have taken a breather."

"It's not your fault. I wasn't feeling bad yet then."

"When did it start?"

"Flight simulator."

"You were in the flight simulator again?" Shiro cuts in.

Keith glares at him. "Yeah."

"Keith, you have to stop doing that."

"How else am I supposed to learn?"

This is a longstanding argument between the two of them. Keith is a little obsessed with the flight simulator built into his lion. It's like a much more realistic, ramped-up version of the one in the Garrison. Even back then, Keith used to hog the simulator until other students complained, and once or twice came out with a migraine aura so bad he could barely walk. It's the sensory overload that triggers it. Shiro has explained to him over and over again that he can turn down the lights and sound so he's less likely to spiral into an evening like this, and that he needs to take breaks. Keith's rebuttal is that he needs to practice under realistic conditions, because he refuses to turn down the lights or sound in real life, claiming he's too afraid he'll miss something important. He sometimes triggers the overloads on purpose in the simulator because he's afraid that if it happens in a real battle (and, once or twice, it has) he won't be able to overcome the pain and keep flying. Everyone on the team knows he's their best pilot. But only Shiro -- and, recently, Lance -- realize how fragile he is. It's not that Keith isn't strong. He's amazingly strong, mentally and physically, in many ways stronger than Shiro himself. But he has limitations, just like the rest of the team, and he refuses to respect them.

"Come on, Shiro, leave him alone," Lance says. "We can talk about that later."

He's right. Shiro's tone was getting a little out of control. "Sorry."

Keith's eyes have closed, and he looks like he might be drifting off on Lance's shoulder. Seeing him this vulnerable, especially propped up against Lance, really gets to Shiro. He wishes he could protect Keith, that he could drop him off back on Earth and come back for him once the universe is saved. He wishes they lived in a world where he and Keith could go on joyrides on the hoverbike on days they were both feeling up to it, and Keith could stay in his room with his earplugs in on days they weren't. He wishes they weren't obligated to save the universe so Keith wouldn't feel like he has to push himself like this, and hates himself for wishing it. 

It's easy enough to sacrifice his own time, to put himself through pain, for the sake of the rest of civilization. Even if he doesn't like to admit it to himself, the rest of the team have pointed out Shiro's own propensity to punish himself with training. He's acknowledged himself that his behavior might not be completely healthy when he's snuck to the training room in the middle of the night to turn the robot up two levels above the castle's recommendations for him and let it beat him over and over again, taking some kind of sick comfort in the bruises and shallow cuts he was dealt in the fights. Sure, he's got a few unhealthy coping mechanisms that he uses to deal with the stress of leading the team, but he's just doing what he has to to make it through this, because he has to. But seeing Keith do the same thing is torturous. Nothing could make Shiro feel more helpless, especially since he knows that criticizing Keith makes him a hypocrite.

Shiro pads around to Lance's other side, not wanting to box Keith in, and settles down next to him. Then he carefully grabs takes Lance's hand in his. It's the prosthetic, but he can feel it almost like Lance is touching his skin. Lance takes his eyes off Keith, who's definitely more than half-asleep now, and looks up at Shiro. He disengages his hand so he can run it through Shiro's hair. Shiro groans quietly, his eyes closing, and leans into Lance. Lance, despite all his posturing, always seems to know when Shiro needs to feel small and protected. He puts his arm around Shiro's shoulders and pulls him close. Shiro slides down until he's shorter than Lance, pressing his face into Lance's neck, until everything is warm, dark, and quiet. He places a soft kiss there, but doesn't go any further than that. It's not the time.

He spends a few minutes pulling himself together until Keith draws both of their attention. "I think the meds are working." Shiro breathes a sigh of relief. Sometimes they don't.

"You want me to get you into bed?" Shiro asks.

"Yeah, in a minute."

"Are you still nauseous?"

"Yes, but I'm okay. I'm not going to throw up again."

"You know it's alright if you do."

"I know, but I won't. I just wanna sleep it off."

Somehow they all end up in Keith's bed, Keith sandwiched between Shiro and Lance. "Thanks for staying with me," he says. "Both of you."

"Wouldn't dream of leaving," Lance promises.

They sleep, and everything is peaceful.

* * *

 

None of them are awake the next morning when Pidge and Hunk barge into the room. Pidge is already babbling, "Hey guys, come look at this, we swapped out the lenses in the teludav for --"

Keith has sat up in bed, blinking owlishly; Lance, still lying down, has frozen with his eyes wide open. Hunk and Pidge are already staring at them, and Pidge actually leaps into the air and yelps when Shiro pops up behind the both of them. "Guys, what's --" He freezes when he stops rubbing his eyes and sees Pidge and Hunk standing their, jaws on the floor, staring at the three spooning.

"This -- this isn't --" Lance splutters.

"Ohoho, I think it's  _exactly_ what it looks like. I knew it. I just  _knew_ it. I  _knew_ all three of you were going to --"

"Hunk, shut up," Keith growls. "We can talk about this later."

"Oh,  _no,_ I am definitely talking about this with Pidge  _right now_ , because I get to lord this over them for the rest of  _eternity_ because of how right I was. I _called_ it, man!" Pidge doesn't respond to the obvious taunt, spluttering incoherently as Hunk drags her out of the room, laughing to himself. The door closes behind them, leaving all three disoriented boys in silence.

"I suppose there's no way we could convince them this was platonic," Lance says without much hope.

Shiro surveys them all. Lance and Shiro simply stripped before getting in bed; they're both in their underwear and covered up to the waist by Keith's blanket, so they basically look like they're completely naked. Keith ended up wearing a t-shirt and no pants, and it's pretty easy to tell from where the blanket lies that he's pants-less. "Yeah, don't think the odds are looking too good on that one."

"They were bound to find out eventually," Keith opines, flopping back down on the pillow. "We might as well let them get the shock out of their system before we show our faces."

"Hm," Lance says. He knows Keith and Shiro are right, but he doesn't have to be happy about it.

Shiro smirks. "Well, while they're cooling off, maybe we can..." He slides a hand across Keith's waist, making him shiver pleasurably, then keeps going until he's running it up Lance's thigh, slipping warm fingers up the leg of Lance's boxers. Lance arches involuntarily, and that's really all it takes to get his mind off the unplanned reveal of their relationship.


End file.
